La Cerise Sur Le Gateau
by gaycrusader
Summary: Post 5-13. I know it's been done to death but my babies need a happy ending, and this is my version of their happy ending. Title means 'Cherry On The Cake,' I hope you enjoy. M for later chapters.


"So how about this, whilst JT is exploring worlds outside of Gayopolis, Rage becomes cold, closed off from the world. Even from Zephyr. Instead of keeping the streets of Gayopolis safe, Rage spends all of his time fucking and drinking and ignoring his friends."

"Michael, I hardly think-"

"UNTIL, JT turns up out of the blue and gives Rage the rimming of a lifetime until his coldness melts, and the gay crusader is back to save Gayopolis from peril!"

"Look Michael, I need to plan my show but I can draw up a few things and email them to you if you really want to go with this idea. However, I think that Rage is far more likely to be a BETTER crusader without JT slowing him down. He can fuck more, rage more and _do_ more without JT around. Batman was still Batman without Robin, right?"

"He misses you."

"This was his idea as much as it was mine, he would re-open Babylon, continue being the hottest damn mess Pittsburgh ever had, and I would come here. To New York."

"Yeah well, think about what JT would do."

"Look Michael, I really have to go."

"Okay, good luck with your show and give Brian a call okay? Not until after next weekend though, he's going to Canada to visit Gus."

"See you, Michael."

"See you."

Justin gave a sigh as he ended the call. How was he supposed to find happiness here with the constant reminder of Brian? Every time Michael called, every time he drew Rage. After this weekends show, he would have enough money to stop doing the comic, but Justin still had passion for Rage, and he knew he would never let Michael - and the rest of the gay community who read it - down.

"Mr Taylor. Is here okay?"

Justin turned at the sound of his name. One of the gallery workers was holding one of his pieces up against the wall. Justin studied it.

"A little higher... No, lower than that... Okay, there. That's perfect."

He was hot. A little older than Justin, maybe late twenties. Straight, black hair and pale skin.

"There we are. How's that?" The framed painting stood out against the stark white walls, and was aligned perfectly with the art surrounding it.

"Pretty good." Justin replied, his eyes on the back pockets of the guy's jeans. "The painting looks alright, too."

His eyes twinkle and he leans a hand out to shake Justin's. "I'm Chad."

"Hi Chad. Say, where are the toilets in this place?"

Chad smiled before turning on his foot, walking ahead and calling back "I can show you."

This wouldn't be the first time Justin had fucked in an art gallery. In fact, it wouldn't even be the second, but Justin had never fucked in an art gallery displaying _his_ art before. He felt a flush of pride when he thought about how far he'd come. He's only been living in the big apple for three months, and here he was. Being blown by a hot guy, who was helping put together his show. Justin Taylor. Best-selling artist. Who'd have thought?

Just as he was getting used to Chad's tongue's irragularity, thrusting when he needed to, trying to establish his own rhythm, Justin felt a finger in his ass, stretching him. Chad hit Justin's prostate almost immedietly. This guy knows what he's doing. Justin convulsed, his head hitting the back of the bathroom stall. He was almost as good as Brian. Almost.

* * *

"Is that what you're wearing? Really?"

"Hey now, I'm the artist. I can wear whatever the fuck I want."

"You'll be the least dressed-up person here."

Justin grinned at Courtney, the gallery owner. "That's the point."

Courtney stood her ground for a few seconds before caving, and smiling back. "You're lucky you're cute."

Courtney had been a good friend the past couple of months. He came to New York alone, and he knew he would never of gotten as far as he did without her help and her support.

Justin walked to the bathroom, having a vivid memory of where it was from his encounter with Chad the previous Wednesday. And now here he was. Saturday night, the opening of his first ever show, the show he'd been planning for weeks. He felt proud. He felt grateful to everyone he'd met in New York who helped him get here. And yet he didn't feel happy.

He sighed, zipped up his fly and went over to the mirror to make sure he looked okay. He'd let his hair grow out again, some said it looked scruffy, but he was going more for disheveled. He was wearing a tight, plain black tshirt, with denim jeans and his white leather jacket. Perfectly casual. Exactly what he was going for. Around these people, you needed to look casual to stand out.

The noise of guests arriving prompted Justin to leave the bathroom. He was immedietly greeted with hand after hand to shake, and after an hour of welcoming, everyone 'important' had finally arrived and Justin could go his own way.

"Excuse me, Mr. Taylor?"

Justin turned to look into the eyes of an elderly man. "Yes, can I help you?"

"Please. How much is this?"

"Uhh, everything should have a price written underneath, you see, like on here."

Justin pointed to the little piece of paper that had a price written on it underneath his nearest painting. The man was old, Justin thought. He didn't know any better.

"No, this one doesn't have a price written anywhere near it."

Justin turned to look where the old man was pointing, and was shocked to see his drawing of Brian. The one the Gay and Lesbian Center in Pittsburgh had sold for $500. Justin moved to get a closer look at the drawing, the old man hot on his heels.

"I... I can't believe it. I drew this when I was 17. I _sold_ this when I was 17. At least, I thought I did."

"You had talent from a young age. So, how much? I can write a cheque if you want. It _is_ for sale now, right?"

Justin was speechless. He looked between the drawing and the old man, completly lost for words.

"Right." The voice came from behind him. A voice Justin would recognise anywhere. Deep, husky and always inlayed with just a touch of arrogance. The voice he'd loved for 5 years.

Brian stepped in front of Justin, and spoke directly to the old man. "I'm sorry Sir, this was a last minute addition to the show which is why it is unlabled, but you're right. It _is_ for sale."

"Well. How much?" Mr. Thompson was begining to look pissed off, and Brian - still not acknowledging Justin - put an arm around the old man and walked away with him, leaving Justin flabbergasted.

Courtney rushed over to Justin looking excited and Justin knew it would be at least 10 minutes before he could escape. "Lucky you, you met Mr. Kinney. He lives in Pittsburgh, that's where you came here from isn't it? Get this - he owns Kinnetic, you heard of it? It's the most succesful advertising company in this part of the country. I'm not sure why he wants to see your work, but he could do wonders for this gallery. Handsome too, huh? Anyway, if you get to speak to him again, make sure to gush about the company and how much money it could make him if he helped us and - wait, that drawing, has it always been part of this show? It's damn good but it's sort of... well it's a drawing of a..."

"... a cock? Yeah, I know. And you didn't put it with the others? When you were organising the show?"

"No, but as long as it's yours I'm sure we can sell it."

Courtney dashed off, obviously needing to entertain some other guest. She was kind, she was efficiant, but she could talk for America. Justin shook his head and headed for the bathroom. He needed some time alone.

After splashing his face, and drying off with a hand towel he leaned against one of the walls. Why was he here? Why now? He hadn't visited him before. Not once. Isn't he supposed to be in Canada?

Justin barely had time to collect his thoughts when he heard the door creak open. He immediatly stood up straight, and looked up at what could be a potential client, hoping he didn't look as pale as he felt.

"$10, 000, that's way more than I paid for it."

Justin looked up to see Brian locking the main door to the bathroom. "Brian."

"Maybe I wouldn't have brought it here if I knew what a bargain I was harboring in the back of my closet."


End file.
